


Forbidden Fruit

by guiltyhousewife



Category: Aladdin (1992), Aladdin: The Animated Series
Genre: Banter, Father/Son Incest, Incest, M/M, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 13:30:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19006765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guiltyhousewife/pseuds/guiltyhousewife
Summary: What do you get when you cross two figures of self proclaimed desert royalty?





	1. Chapter 1

The portly sultan laid a hand over his finely clothed girth, giving an appraising eye towards the peaceful scenery beyond his carriage seat. Just outside the window, streaks of green and yellow flashed by, and in between the ruler caught glimpses of trees such the variety he had never seen in his desert kingdom. A pang of guilt and anxiety plagued him as he thought of Agrabah, his unattended city.

He and his future son-in-law were taking some time out from their desert home to discuss wedding plans. He had left the city's management and safety in capable hands; Genie had assured him he was well suited to throne sitting. And yet he still couldn't help but worry. He did not fear for his own safety, his trusted and most loyal guard Rasoul sat next to the driver of the carriage, up front, armed to the teeth, and Aladdin himself was no easy prey. It was his city he fretted over.

The feeling passed, however, as Aladdin leaned, bright eyed and smiling, over his lap to the point out the carriage window.

"Look sultan, over there, do you see the stream bend, beyond that patch of trees? That's the place I picked out." He declared proudly. "There is a waterfall, a glade…"

"Very different from the sun and the sand," sultan mused.

"It's beautiful." Aladdin looked wistful for a moment, then his expression turned cheeky. "Of course not as beautiful as Jasmine."

The sultan allowed himself a hearty laugh.

Aladdin smiled in return. He was glad everything was going well with he and the sultan's excursion, at least so far. Sultan's suggestion to go on this trip surprised him, and their seemed a certain… gravity to what Jasmine's father had to tell him. So he was nervous. For that reason, he took it upon himself to plan their 'talk'. Everything had to be perfect. So he and Genie ventured out to find a nice, quiet, small place. And it would help if it was a little awe-inspiring, and what was more inspiring to a desert sultan than the largest oasis in the world, a miracle of place, with not only palms, but also vegetation even Aladdin himself had never seen before?

"Driver," he shouted out from his own window, "how long do you think it will take until we reach the glade?" He was getting, admittedly, a tad antsy. He would much rather be up front, feeling the wind as the stable's best mares cantered at a healthy speed, watching the countryside fly by liberated. Of course, this would mean suffering Rasoul's company. The burly man did not even try to hide his dislike of Aladdin, though, to be fair, he was as civil as was necessary. After all, he only shoved Aladdin a little bit as he helped the sultan inside the carriage.

Aladdin furrowed his brow as he failed to hear the answering shout from the driver, a hired gentlemen for just this occasion. He was actually a pretty good guy, wife, two kids, good work ethic. Aladdin liked him. And so, he called again. He was interrupted, however, as the carriage slammed to a screeching halt and threw both sultan and former street rat forward with tremendous force.

The sultan cried out as his head hit the wood in front of him, and stars exploded in front of his eyes. He slid down to the carriage's floor, and groaned. Aladdin beside him blinked drops of his own blood from his eyes, and raked his hand across his eyes. The initial confusion he felt disappeared as he immediately thought of the sultan.

"Sultan! Are you alright?" he picked himself off the floor and knelt next to the older man, helping him back in his seat. The sultan too was bleeding, a tiny river seeping under his turban. Aladdin felt panic rise, seeing the green and gray flood his future father-in-law's face. The sultan seemed disoriented, and after a length, slid his eyes up to Al.

"What in the world happened?"

Aladdin turned to the carriage door, swinging precariously on his hinges. He stepped from the wreckage, and in the startlingly glaring sunlight, he saw the driver, in his dusty uniform, braced against the carriage's edge.

"What-" he began, only to watch the man slide to the ground, an arrow poised grotesquely in his shoulder.

His head shot up as raucous laughter broke his initial horror. He looked into the faces of six, no seven men. Aladdin took a step back as he realized he was, in the most literal sense of the world, surrounded.

He scanned his predicament slowly, as if viewing from outside himself. The carriage wheel lay crippled in some grass a few paces away, a jagged saw mark from axle to base. So this was what brought their travels to a halt, that and the fact the proud horses that had carried them thus far were useless; one mare was no where to be seen, the other was held by two brutish men, the horse tossing it's frothing head.

On the cliff scope to the left, on the overhanging escarpments, were criminals, in the grassy patch of open ground they lay, robbers, to the back of them, pillagers, everywhere he looked he saw men of obviously low moral quality. They sneered at him, laughed, looked on menacingly with a slight touch to their sabers and swords and cracked their knuckles. They were in assorted rags, tattered finery, mismatched apparel, but their weapons gleamed proudly. So many of them…

This must be the…the legendary forty thieves!

His attention was pinioned as one man stepped forward to address him directly.

"You look afraid boy, but I don't blame you. After all, you stand before the King of the Forty Thieves!"


	2. Chapter 2

"You look afraid boy, but I don't blame you. After all, you stand before the King of the Forty Thieves!"

His voice was booming and sure, the figure he cut, a dashing one. He stood proud and tall, a few good inches taller than Aladdin himself, his hands at his hips with his head back. He was in smooth, blue cloth, a cold medallion blazing on his chest. His eyes looked at Aladdin from under a head mask, though they were dark, quick, and bright.

"The forty thieves…" Aladdin repeated in awe. "Look, I don't care who you are, you have no right to assault our party. What do you want?"

"Oh come now, boy, don't get fussy, we're just passing career men, a little short on money, but hoping to profit on the kindness of strangers."

Aladdin tensed as this self-proclaimed king drew his sword lazily, setting it in a high arch aimed at Aladdin's throat.

"You could help us with that, couldn't you boy?" He continued in a lower voice, and somehow, Aladdin felt pinned by his steady gaze.

" I have nothing to give you." He said, forcing his tone strong and defiant.

"Don't you mean we?" Another gravely voice added. Aladdin watched, horrified, as a large, gray hued, grotesquely muscled man, bare-chested and baring both large white teeth and curved, gold claws, wrapped his hand around the entirety of the sultan's arm. Aladdin watched with worry as the sultan did his weak best to resist the bandit's effort to tear him from the carriage.

"Leave him alone! He's been hurt!" Aladdin rushed forward at the man, for the moment uncaring if his adversary was both larger and more vicious than he, knowing that if the sultan was harmed, all was lost.

"Calm down, kid. No need to worry your pretty little head," the King of Thieves consoled, chuckling as Aladdin was shoved backward by Saluk and landed, sprawled out on his back, in the grass. At the King's motion, he was held down by two other vagabounds. The king admired the boy's spunk as he struggled and fought in their stronger hold.

He turned dismissively to the sultan's aggressor.

"Saluk, leave him be for now. If our royal guest runs, he won't get far. I doubt he has the pluck, in any case."

Begrudgingly, Saluk tossed the sultan back into the wrecked carriage, where the older man exclaimed in amazement at his rough treatment.

"You are a little too free with your orders, Cassim." Saluk remarked darkly as he leaned against the carriage door in a sulk.

Cassim knelt in the grass next to Aladdin on his haunches, ignoring Saluk. Aladdin noted the man was decisively cat like. He moved quickly, but unhurried, and was casually graceful. He pulled back his face coverings and smiled down brilliantly at Aladdin,

"See there, I'm not such a bad guy now am I?"

Aladdin stared up red faced and panting from effort into the visage of the revealed King of Thieves. He was dark from the sun, the hair on his face and his head richly black and shinning healthily, and his black glittering eyes shown. His face was worn, and admittedly, he was later in his years, 35 or 40. Aladdin could admit in another circumstance, the king would be considered a handsome man, what with his wide, confident smile and strong facial structure.

The initial praise was gone, however, when Cassim pressed his cheeks together hard in his fingers.

"Now why don't you be a good boy and tell us where you squirreled away all the valuables on this little carriage of yours?"

"Where is" Aladdin practically growled, his chest heaving with indignation from the confines of his shirt, "Rasoul?"

"Rasoul?" Cassim repeated, acting genuinely puzzled.

"He means this 'un." Another vagrant called out, a port bellied, club-wheeling ruffian with a stupid grin. He gestured to a figure at the bottom of the cart, who was jerked up and set inside with the sultan.

"Rasoul!" Aladdin called out in surprise.

Rasoul had clearly been soundly beaten. His face was littered with ugly, purpling bruises and lacerations, though he glared out fiercely like an unhappy lion bound, his massive arms tied behind him crudely. He snuffed and snorted from beneath his gag, a truly distasteful gray rag.

"We had to shut up the big loud mouth some way." Saluk laughed along with his brethren.

Cassim roughly shook his head by his hold to get Aladdin's attention.

"So you see boy, your friends can't help you. I picked you out as the smarter of this bunch, so prove it by cooperating."

Aladdin glared up, ears ringing and burning with indignation.

"I've told you, Cassim," The king rose his eyebrow at such a bold use of his name, "We have nothing. We are just villagers passing through, and you're too stupid to realize it."

At first, Aladdin thought he would be struck for his unplanned impudence, as Cassim tightened his grip on Aladdin's cheek, but the thieves' leader let go, and instead patted Aladdin's face patronizingly.

"Wrong again, boy. You're a lousy liar. I have been from one side of this continent to the other, don't you think I'd recognize the sultan of Agrabah?"

There was a titter of conversation among Cassim's lackeys at this statement, and the bottom of Aladdin's stomach fell out. Cassim looked down amused at Aladdin's expression of dismay.

"What do you say we get a little more persuasive boys?"

"I tire of this kid's game." Saluk called out irately.

Cassim grinned down at him, tickling Aladdin's golden brown throat with the tip of his sword.

"Why don't we start by giving the good sultan's neck a nice, big, red smile?"

What Aladdin did next, he could not explain, and would not lie by saying he had thought it through. On a raging, protective and determined impulse, Aladdin threw his body up by a burst of force and collided his forehead with that of Cassim's. The man cried out and reared back. Ignoring his own ringing head, Aladdin wrested free of his surprised captor's and in a nimble bound, grabbed Cassim's sword and leapt free of the tangle…

"Stupid move, boy. It will be a shame to cut such a pleasing face, but no one strikes the king of thieves." Cassim said slowly, using his sleeve to wipe a trickle of blood from his forehead. He stood tall once more, and all pretense of playing was gone from his face. His subjects were now in motion, coming closer, removing weapons.

"You have outlived your usefulness." Saluk intoned, also beginning to bear down on Aladdin.

Aladdin did his best to not let his arms shake and betray him. He had thought more than a couple of times of how he would leave this world. When he was still living on the streets, he accepted the fact he'd die from hunger, dehydration, disease, hanging by the royal guard, or in the hands of the slave traders that patrolled Agrabah's back streets looking for orphaned children. As he and Jasmine's relationship progressed, he hoped he would die old and in her arms, his children living on. He also suspected that one day he would die battling Agrabah's enemies. He had never imagined being killed, in the middle of nowhere, Genie miles away, Jasmine miles away, in a simple theft. He didn't relish the idea.

So maybe it was a bit stupid to provoke Cassim, but he could not allow Jasmine's father, the sultan, to be harmed. He had come to consider the man as a father, a father he had never had.

He had to think quickly. He backed up a bit, putting healthy space between him and the incoming highwaymen, the grass reaching his knees.

"You're a coward, your majesty!" Aladdin called out. The sultan, for a moment looked confused, until Aladdin met his eyes, and Cassim stopped to regard Aladdin. "King of the Thieves? Ha! If you cannot even face one boy in a fair fight, how can you deserve such an outrageous title?"


	3. Chapter 3

"You're a coward, your majesty!" Aladdin called out. The sultan, for a moment looked confused, until Aladdin met his eyes, and Cassim stopped to regard Aladdin. "King of the Thieves? Ha! If you cannot even face one boy in a fair fight, how can you deserve such an outrageous title?"

At first, Cassim seemed simply stunned. His sword dropped from its expert position, and he looked at Aladdin as if seeing him for the first time. His henchmen, however, his subjects, were relatively quick to rally to his support.

"Shut your mouth, boy!"

"He doesn't have to prove himself to you!"

But others turned the tide. Saluk barked in laughter, feigning good humor as he chuffed Cassim on the shoulder, the man still unspeaking.

"Look like he's got you there, Cassim."

Aladdin watched all of this with quick, darting eyes. This was where his victory would lie. Clearly this group was not a stable one. From what he could tell so far in his time with these legendary theives, there was some sort of power rift, a dominance battle between Saluk and their King that constantly bubbled under the surface. You could see it in the way the two titans looked at one another. A constant challenge, a constant 'try me' attitude that they managed to disguise as lighthearted.

Aladdin decided to try and play his next card. He tipped back his head, striking a relaxed pose with his hand resting lightly on his hip, smiling both brightily and warmly, and said,

"Come on, old man, try me."

If only he knew the effect that smile had on the King of Theives.

The King, on his part, had been attracted to Aladdin from the first moment he tumbled out of the carriage. He was everything Cassim valued. He was youthful, bold, and, perhaps most importantly, he was daring. He was brave, but there was gentleness to him, a fire sweetened., a tenderness seen as he regarded the injured sultan, or sympathised to even Rasoul's plight. His eyes were large, dark, and flattering, and Cassim knew he had to find out what emotions he could envoke out of them. In short, the boy was beautiful. As he watched to boy stiffen his will, brace his legs and his sword arm as Cassim approached, he knew. He wanted this boy to need him, follow him, and want him.

And, as the most determined, goal orientated man in the five fingered business, Cassim wasn't put off easy, not even by the most coy of prey. At the very least, he had to play to his men, he was loosing their support rapidly.

"Try you?" Cassim said with loud humor as he came to a stop in front of a still defensive Aladdin, "Why my boy, I could swallow you whole!"

There was loud chuckles and cheering at that, but Aladdin was not to be put off.

"All words are we then, sire?" Aladdin knew as soon as he said to be ready for an attack, an attack did come. He brought his sword up horizontally as Cassim's curved blade came down in a broad, general swipe. The power of the offense, however, made Aladdin begrudgingly stumble back.

"Fine, boy-"

"Aladdin." He corrected strongly. "I am no child."

Cassim smiled benignly. "Fine Aladdin," he took his time tasting the name on his tongue, "Let us play then."

He swung again, this time swooping lower than his initial attack. Aladdin, expecting another upward manuever, was forced to lunge backward, and near lost his footing. He went down, yes, but made the best of his screw up by throwing his leg out as he descended. Cassim did not fall, but was put off balance, which gave time for Aladdin to rise. He smiled, pink cheeked and triumphant, as the tables turned and he advanced on Cassim.

Cassim's men watched, hooting and cheering, making irreverant bets against both Aladdin and their leader, while Saluk watched from down the bridge of his nose, pretending to be interested in picking his nails with a small dagger. But this was not the pair's only audience. Sultan's eyes watched too, his breath hitching every time it seemed Cassim had the upper advantage. He was hoping for all he was worth, experiencing little deaths and births every time Aladdin suffered a slash or delivered one himself. His own danger seemed in the back of his mind, as he watched his future son in law fight for his life.

Rasoul watched too. He had worked his way directly in front of the sultan for two reasons. Firstly, for protection. He would allow no common scum to approach or threaten the sultan; he may be bound, dammit, but he was still breathing. Second, his position in the carriage allowed for him to steadily work against his bonds unseen, wriggling, twisting and straining. His shoulders ached and his wrists burned, but his mind was elsewhere. His brow furrowed as he watched Aladdin. The streetrat…well, to be honest, he expected him to be floored within seconds. Then he'd have the clean up the mess.

But as he watched, his interest was invoked. Aladdin was actually holding his one. He should have know, the little brat was hard catch back in his old theft days. And hell, at least he wasn't on their side. 'Just give me some more time, boy' Rasoul thought as his hands worked at a furious pace.

Aladdin's spared his surrondings a small glance as he had to sidestep two of Cassim's men just to keep moving, and they weren't cooperative at the very least of the definition. They tried to trip him in their own dishonest way, but, to Cassim's approval, he learned quickly, and was light on his feet. Like a sure winged bird, he darted, he dodged, he flew….

Cassim felt the good burn set in. He wasn't as young as he used to be, but this was the satisfaction, this was the gratifying slow ache in his bones. Aladdin was giving him his money's worth.

The boy was as inventive as he was…well, careless. He would take unneccesary risks. He had, on impulse, as Cassim was caught in offense, grabbed the lower half of Cassim's sword, and twisted. It almost fell from Cassim's hand, to his dismay, but to Aladdin's chagrin, Cassim was stronger, and pulled back. Cassim was amazed to find Aladdin's hand doused red from his manuever. The boy hardly gave it a glance, just swiping it on his pant leg.

Aladdin's own sword handle slipped painfullly in his hand, grating against his open slice, and yet he did his best to not let Cassim notice. But despite his efforts, the king observed every wince Aladdin gave, the way he constantly changed his grip on his weapon. His efforts became sloppy, desperate; he could no longer put the same force behind each swing of his sword. Cassim's brow furrowed; Aladdin was loosing.

He knew his men were watching. They were jackel-like, predatorial, and they could sense his growing weakness, smell his ineptitude, see his body slow and swerve and loose precision. They knew and expected Cassim to make his finishing move. It was only a matter of time. Cassim frowned yet again. Did they really expect him to kill Aladdin? One look at their expectant faces, and he knew the answer.

So…this was how it was going to be, then? His mind worked furiously, and his body worked automatically countering and checking Aladdin's advance. He had no qualms about killing, or rather, he had killed enough to know it got easier each time, until it was almost a job, a task. But to kill someone he had so foolishly infested affection in? To slit the throat, to permanently cool the blood of a beautiful boy he wanted to have for his very own? He could not imagine himself doing it. He steeled his will; he would not let this boy die today, and especially not by his hands.

But how to get out of it? He could not loose face in his men's eyes. The status quo was shaky enough as is. Saluk would simply color his refusal to kill Aladdin as an admission of weakness. Saluk simply didn't understand matters of the gentlemen's heart….

He watched Aladdin closer now. It was dawning upon him, that is, a little faith, and a little bit of brilliance, if he didn't say so himself. Perhaps it wouldn't be sink or swim, perhaps, he could get what he wanted, and so could his men.

And maybe even Aladdin.

Aladdin's back thudded to the split boards of the carriage wall, and his eyes fluttered shut for a moment in pained surprised. He let the sword hang loose from his bleeding hand, and considered for a moment trying his left hand. But no, that wouldn't help, he knew that. He just wanted so much to drop his sword, to drop this fight. This was getting way too real, way too fast. And Cassim was wearing him down. He searched his older combatant's face. Was he doing the same? He hoped so.

So he kept his sword at the ready, and he panted as Cassim approached, a little too worn to jump right into the defensive. His eyebrow arched as Cassim threw away his sword, and earned some incredulous gasps from his theives.

"So what do you say boy, why don't we make this little battle of ours a little more interesting?"


	4. Chapter 4

"So what do you say boy, why don't we make this little battle of ours a little more interesting?"

Watching Cassim like a well experienced, predatory cat, Aladdin stuck his sword into the ground. He was not surrendering by any means, but if Cassim could feign civility, so could he. If he wanted to parley, so be it. And though he would never admit it, he could use the pause.

Cassim's eyes picked up the little beads of sweat on Aladdin's brow, tickling his eyes, and the certain quiver to his injured hand. But Aladdin's back was strong, his posture sure, his chin high. This was a boy not easily broken.

Admirable.

"More interesting?" Aladdin repeated, not understanding beyond initial suspicion. Cassim regarded him cheerfully as he stopped in front of him.

The King of Thieve's men looked at one another in bemusement, almost in annoyance. Cassim was infamous for his love of, well, toying with his adversaries, and they were impatient to reap their bounty. Sultan, however, strained forward, touching lightly Rasoul's shoulder. What was this…devil of a man up to?

"More interesting." Cassim affirmed. "Now I know both you and I grow tired of this little battle of ours, as entertaining as it is. You know I'll eventually best you boy, so how about we double the bounty and cut the cost?"

Aladdin looked irate, both at Cassim's jabs at him, and his misleading, vague suggestions.

"What in the world are you talking about?" He asked exasperatedly. He was shocked out of words, however, as Cassim suddenly leaned forward, pressuring him between the wall of the destroyed carriage and the warm heat of his body.

He was trapped. He immedietly tried to reach for his sword between the compact of their too-close bodies, and was shocked yet again as Cassim gently stopped him by intimately touching his hand, easing it away from the sword handle and placing it by Aladdin's thigh.

He didn't remember breathing, actually.

Cassim's breath felt hotter than it should have felt as it whipped across his neck, his beard tickling Aladdin's ear as he leaned in to speak lowly into his ear.

"And you and I both know, boy, you don't want your milk eyed little ruler rent limb from limb, or his over muscled body guard split like a dead pig."

A shudder rippled down Aladdin's spine. Something about the unmistakeably male smell of the man, all woods, spice and sun, something about the confidence, the sureness of the muscle and flesh pressed against him was setting him off. And he knew now the game was, for the most part, over. He believed every word Cassim said, and believed his potential in these close of quarters.

Cassim's eyes searched Aladdin's face, taking advantage of Aladdin's surprise to tickle and tantalize his fingers the expanse of the boy's thigh, laughing lowly as Aladdin jerked away automatically, looking affronted.

"You're strong, kid, but not strong enough to beat me. It's not worth it to put both your life and the life of your travelling companions on the line to prove something you can't back up, at least not this early."

He looked at Aladdin fondly, and tucked a stray, jet black bang behind Aladdin's ear. Aladdin stared back with wide, betrayed eyes.

"You're still young." He paused, a traced a barely-there line from Aladdin's chin to his partly open lips. "You're an attractive young man, and I have been around dirt scroungers like my own men for far too long. One kiss, that's all I ask if you should be pinned in a grapple with me. I will harm neither you nor your friends. And if you win, you are free to go."

He backed up, watching the turmoil cross Aladdin's face. Shock, disgust, rationalizing, dissapointment, and finally, bedgruding resolve. All Cassim had to do was make that final push.

"I'm a man of my word, trust me."

Aladdin made a scoffing noise of disbelief in his throat as he crossed his arms over his chest, his cheeks betraying his emboaressment and frustration by flushing red. He refused to look at Cassim.

Cassim, for his part, simply waited, like the patient man his ardous work had taught him to be.

Aladdin finally sighed in irritattion, mostly at himself. With the motion his lean chest heaved, a nuance not unnoticed by Cassim.

"Fine." Aladdin ground out between his still stubbornly clenched teeth.

Cassim grinned in approval.

"Wonderful" he said with a winning smile.

He then smoothly reached down and took one of Aladdin's arms in his hand, fingers barely brushing the boy's trembling skin. Before Aladdin's initial surprise could wear off, Cassim's firm grip and control had launched Aladdin behind him, to send the boy stumbling, eventually landing hard on his ass in the dirt. He was in too much shock to be indignant at this point, though the hearty laughs and jeers from Cassim's men were enough to set his face aflame. Aladdin stared up at Cassim, disbelieving his next actions.

Cassim had turned to their audience and rose his hands in a dramatic gesture of modesty. The very surity of his presence commanded a no-questions attention.

"You, my men, know more than anyone else that Cassim, King of Theives, is first and foremost a gentlmen."

More raccous, elbow nudging laughter accompanied this. Saluk looked disgusted, but the other vagabounds and pick pockets laughed, wise to Cassim's game.

"My young friend and I have come to an understanding. If I should best him in a grapple, there will be full cooperation in obtaining the treasure you so eagerly, and patiently, seek."

Cassim's whiff of sarcasm did not deter the outburst of enthused hooting and hollering at his comment. Aladdin's own eyes flashed up to Cassim's instantly. Who was he lying to? No treasure was mentioned at all in their so called 'negotiations'. But when the older man's clever gaze spared him a breif moment, he could hear the the timbre of theif's voice in his head, as true as ever,

"You can trust me."

It was strange. If Aladdin found some aspects of Cassim's personality unsavory, he was at least confident in Cassim's word and his integrity. Sonow he lies to his own men? He had to know there was no gold aboard their carriage, and it was dangerous to get these gold hungry, road bandits falsely enthused. He was really willing to sacrifice the trust of his subjects just for the chance of one kiss from him? Aladdin's head spun.

"And of course," Cassim continued, "I plan to reap my own rewards should I win in this little contest of ours." He raised his eyebrows as if it was common knowledge he would come out victor, and he was merely humoring Aladdin. Maybe he was. "If he wins, he and his companions are free to go unharmed. But in my victory, all I ask for from our youthful guest here is one. Small. Kiss."

He winked roughishly at Aladdin, who looked horrified, enraged, humiliated and used as Cassim's subjects burst as if a straining damn, their laughs, their mocking, their lewd comments, all much too loud on Aladdin's ears.

For a moment, Cassim caught Aladdin's eye as he set his sword aside and discarded his cloak. In confusion, his own head reeled. Was it his imagination, or was that…hurt betrayl in Aladdin's open face?

It disturbed him, and so in an effort to get Aladdin back into that witty, playful banter mood that looked so good on the boy, he chuffed him good humoredly and loomed over the sprawled out teen.

"You know, if you're going to start out on your back, boy, you'll make this far too easy for me…"

Catching every single ounce of Cassim's innuendo and lewd suggestions, Aladdin realized its still hadn't occurred to him to get up off the ground…


	5. Chapter 5

Catching every single ounce of Cassim's innuendo and lewd suggestions, Aladdin realized its still hadn't occurred to him to get up off the ground…

Inside the wrecked carriage compartment came the noise of bustling, anxious searching, and apparent aggravation.

"Dammit!"

Rasoul turned in momentary amusement, cocking an eye down at his red-faced Sultan, who, by own personal code, almost never cursed. Sultan looked up, exasperated, at his guard's bulky frame blocking the door, and helpfully, blocking the attention of the numerous cutthroats and criminals surrounding them.

"Now don't look at me like that Rasoul, a man of my age in this predicament is allowed to get a little frustrated." He scolded.

"Of course, your highness." Rasoul replied with a grin, and then set about his own task. His face set with grim determination, grunting with the occasional discomfort. He may be down, but he was certainly not out. He was captain of the royal guard for Allah's sake!

The shattered door of their carriage was sharp with protruding splinters, and it was one of them he now carefully rubbed his bonds against while he stared outside in concentration. The slicing of the coarse rope was painfully slow, but Rasoul could not sit by and wait for whatever fate to befall he and the sultan. Fortunately, he could remain mostly inconspicuous as he set about freeing himself, as the thieves' attention was almost entirely riveted on the fight outside.

He frowned.

"Sire, if you don't mind me asking, what are you doing?" He still heard his royal charge doing something behind him in the carriage.

"You can drop the formalities, I think, Rasoul." The sultan answered in his no nonsense manner. "And I'm searching for that blasted lamp Aladdin carries. We need the Genie."

Rasoul grit his teeth as his hands slipped and the shattered wood bit into his skin.

"I don't-I don't recall seeing him with it."

The sultan sighed, and leaned back, his eyes screwed shut. "Of course, I do think I remember him leaving it with Jasmine, for her safety of course." He paused, and looked over to Rasoul, noticing the guard's large, callused hands were bleeding onto his cracked fingernails from the haphazard rubbing against the splinters in an effort to free himself. He made a sound of gentle disapproval.

"Oh for heaven's sake, Rasoul, let me help you." He took out an elegant cloth napkin from the belt across his generous waist, and dabbed carefully at Rasoul's cuts. Rasoul jerked away as much as he could from the bighearted ruler.

"No sir," came Rasoul's quick reply. Sultan reared back in indignation, asking incredulously.

"Well why ever not?"

"It's dangerous, your majesty, I can handle these dirt bags anger if they discover me, but I don't want them to have any reason to target you. And besides", he added, "you might cut your hands."

Sultan huffed, laughing at Rasoul.

"That is singularly the most ridiculous thing you have ever said to me, Rasoul. And I plan on fully ignoring you."

With an admiringly deliberate movie, he reached into his smartly clean and black boot and pulled out a thin, needlepoint knife. He then began to saw away at Rasoul's bindings. Feeling the weight of Rasoul's curious stare over his shoulder, the Sultan answered as he worked.

"I don't enjoy the thought of being helpless, Rasoul. Just a precaution, you understand."

Rasoul nodded, not missing the fact that he learned something new about this seemingly easy natured man every day. He changed a lot after the death of the sultana, but he was still a capable ruler when push came to shove. Rasoul replied sternly, in the manner of a trusted advisor who must assert himself, but remember his subservience at the same time.

"I would not mind if it should come to blows, your highness." Rasoul rumbled. With a triumphant 'There!' from the Sultan, Rasoul's hands were freed. Rasoul stared ahead as he rubbed blood back into his wrists and hands. With willful control, he continued, "But I cannot allow you on good conscience to join the fray. I plan on getting you to safety as soon as possible so we can regroup and send for reinforcements."

The Sultan looked up sharply, reading between the lines.

"Rasoul, we are not leaving Aladdin."

"Your majesty, I did not mean…"

"I know what you mean and I know what you didn't mean, thank you, Rasoul." His tired eyes fell half lidded in willful determination, as he set about tying off Rasoul's wounds in torn off scraps of his own ruined finery.

"I'm sorry, Rasoul, I don't mean to chide. It's just that Aladdin is more than just my daughter's chosen or the hero of our city. He is my future son in law. In fact, he is as much as a son to me as you are, Rasoul."

He fixed Rasoul with steady, unhurried blue eyes, and though not the Sultan's intention, Rasoul felt suddenly abashed. The Sultan either didn't notice or had the grace to not point it out to Rasoul, but he did peer hard out the fight over Rasoul's bulk.

"Rasoul, how long have you been in my service?"

"For about a little over 20 years."

The sultan thoughtfully palmed his chin, as if caught in the past.

"Yes, you were my lead general during the border wars, and you were with me when the famine plagued our city ten years ago. You should know better than anyone else that my policy is this; no life is expendable"

"Of course, your highness." Rasoul replied after a slight pause, and resumed watching and waiting for the right time to make a move of his own.

He found himself noticing, however, something he had missed while he spoke with the Sultan. Where was Aladdin? Had the fight turned? He spotted the former streetrat in a rough circle of onlookers composed of the forty thieves. In the middle, there was their leader, and there was Aladdin, flat on his back in the dirt. He frowned hard. What was going on?

"Get up, boy." He muttered to himself, "Get up."


	6. Chapter 6

Get up, boy." Rasoul muttered to himself, "Get up."

Bassam had been in the forty thieves under Cassim's reign for about eight years now, and in that short time was well aware of their king's quirks and passions. He laughed at the felled Aladdin, flushed red and gaping, and nudged his counterpart.

"Somehow Cassim always finds time to play, eh, Naji?"

The older, heavy set fighter shook his head with a laugh.

"Cassim would not be Cassim without his appetites."

Bassam laughed as well.

"How long do you think this one will last?"

"Long enough to satisfy our king, you can be sure." Naji observed, turning back with his fellow thief to watch the rest of the unexpected show

Jerked into action by embarrassment, Aladdin scrambled to his feet. He was clumsy in an awkward moment, and took out his discomfort by snapping at Cassim.

"I don't plan to make anything easy on you, with or without cheap shots" Disgust, venom, and accusation, all that sharpening the edge of a single word. Cassim shook his head. Perhaps he had pushed further than he should have.

However, he was left with little time to reflect, unsuspecting as he was that Aladdin would be the first to attack.

He did not completely dodge the snapped punch aimed at his face, but it did not matter. Aladdin's first strike was clearly fueled my more anger than accuracy. Grunting the momentary pain off, Cassim seized Aladdin's arm as he tried to pull it back. Out of more instinct to avoid another throw, Aladdin lashed out with his other first. This too, Cassim seized, only to be surprised when his young opponent clapped his hands together and threw them forward into Cassim's unprotected abdomen. With a curse, he released Aladdin.

So, he knew a little about street fighting. More than a little, Cassim corrected himself, this time concentrating fully to avoid another strike. Enough of this! He would not stay on the defensive. He had lived far too long and seen far too much action to be bested by an upstart, no matter how attractive.

Aladdin reeled back from Cassim's elbow crashing into his throat, coughing hard. Taking advantage of Aladdin's inexperience at recovering quickly from pain, Cassim moved behind him, imprisoning Aladdin's neck within his elbow. Aladdin breathed hard, straining to relieve the pressure on his windpipe.

Cassim pushed his body forward against Aladdin's back, locking his hand on the younger man's calve so that his body was nearly bent backward over Cassim's torso. Aladdin could practically feel his cocky smirk on his ear.

"Ready to give up boy? I can be a merciful king, after all." He said lowly with a grind against his exposed lower back.

Aladdin laughed despite the lack of air derisively. He was not so easily beat. He stamped down hard on the inside of Cassim's heel. When he felt the self proclaimed royal lessen his hold, he stepped to the left and again slammed his elbow into the older man's stomach. Reaching behind him, and feeling his stomach pull with the strain, he flipped Cassim over him.

"Tell you what, your highness, you manage to beat me, and I'll bow to you." Aladdin called down to Cassim, amid amused laughing of Cassim's own men. He smiled winningly, the sun highlighting behind him.

Cassim bit down hard, his breath coming back in a flood.

"Why you impudent little…"

Saluk was among the first to laugh at Cassim's expense.

"Ha! Is the kid too much for you, Cassim? Do you need a little help?"

He took no pity on his rival and relished the sweat on his dark forehead. Perhaps if Aladdin kept this up, he'd spare the kid a little mercy when Saluk got his turn at him.

Cassim's heated ears picked up even the smallest, stifled chuckle among his men. No! He refused to loose the respect he had so rightfully fought for. From the bottom to the top, he had earned every ounce of his men's following, whether from fear or genuine admiration, and he would not loose face now.

There were a handful of small groans from the King's less hardened men and all mirth was suffocated as, without warning, the King of Thieves drove the crook of his arm up into Aladdin's jaw. His younger opponent choked and stumbled back.

'Blood?', Aladdin wondered, feeling a warm trickle down his lips.

"Game over, boy."

Cassim took him by the collar, only to slam him forward onto his knee. Aladdin doubled over Cassim's thigh, coughing roughly, his eyes, for the moment, wide with shock. With a graven expression, he pushed Aladdin into the dirt, where he landed ungracefully.

"Fool, it's useless to resist the King of Thieves."

Accompanied by a slight groan, Aladdin raised his head and spat blood to the side in the kicked up dust.

"Maybe," he said with a smile. He wrapped his feet around Cassim's unguarded ankle and tugged hard. The older man did not fall, but was displaced enough to allow Aladdin to rise to his feet.

"But I've never really been the sort to listen to logic."

Cassim smiled in return as the resumed their fight.

"So be it, boy."

************I adore this pairing so if you have a prompt or request please leave it in a review************************


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